Soft Focus

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Marriage? To Jack?

  A LONG TIME later, Jack rolled onto his back and hooked an arm around her. “There is another item on the agenda tonight. In the interests of unbridled honesty, there is one more thing you should know about me before you tell me that you’ll marry me.”

  She groaned and raised herself up on her elbow. “Must I brace myself?”

  “Maybe. I just thought that I ought to clear up a small misunderstanding under which you have been laboring for the past week.”

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You are actually independently wealthy, and even if we don’t find Soft Focus and even if your professional reputation goes down the toilet, it’s okay because you are secretly filthy rich.”

  “There wasn’t any misunderstanding on that point,” he said dryly. “I am not secretly filthy rich.”

  “Oh. Well, in that case, what was it you lied about that first night here in Mirror Springs?”

  “I prefer to think of it not as a lie but rather as a slight bit of judicious misdirection,” he said.

  “About?”

  “About the problem with those reservations I told you I had at the Mirror Springs Resort.”

  She flattened her hand on his chest. “Okay, I’ve braced myself for the worst.”

  He settled himself more comfortably against the pillows and regarded her through half-closed eyes.

  “The strings I mentioned, the ones I pulled to get a room, didn’t exactly break,” he said. “My booking was on file when I got to the resort. I told the front-desk clerk that I didn’t want the room. He gave it to the person in line behind me, who was profoundly grateful because he had arrived without a reservation.”

  She drummed her fingers on his chest. “Then you showed up on my doorstep, gave me that tale of woe about not having a place to stay, and begged me to take you in.”

  He frowned. “I don’t recall begging.”

  “Darn close.”

  “Darn close,” he agreed. “Looking back, I took a hell of a risk. I shouldn’t have canceled the reservation until I knew for sure I could talk my way in here.”

  She pursed her lips and appeared to ponder that admission. “Holding on to the reservation until you knew for sure that I’d fall for your line would definitely have been the savvy, street-smart CEO kind of thing to do.”

  “Don’t know why I didn’t think of it,” Jack mused.

  She stopped drumming her fingers and gave him a smug smile. “I know why.”

  “Yeah?” He wrapped his hand around the back of her head. “Why?”

  She cleared her throat. “It has come to my attention in recent months that you are, at heart, an old-fashioned romantic, Jack Fairfax. A regular Don Quixote.”

  His hand stilled in her hair. He stared at her, too astonished to speak for an instant. Then he started to laugh.

  He laughed so hard, he considered the fact that he did not fall out of bed a near miracle. When he finally recovered, he summed up his opinion of her observation in a single word.

  “Bullshit,” he said.

  “It’s true.” She appeared unperturbed by his incredulous reaction to her announcement. “You are a knight in somewhat tarnished armor. That’s why you feel obliged to atone for some of the damage you think your father did. It’s why you consult for small, troubled companies that can’t afford you. It’s why you never insist on a golden parachute before you sign on to a contract with a firm that is facing disaster. It’s why you prefer to work for closely held businesses that have a personal history and a family legacy instead of big, soulless corporations.”

  He grinned. “Let me get this straight. You think it was this wildly romantic streak of mine that convinced me to take my chances with you that first night here in Mirror Springs?”

  “Absolutely. It’s the only thing that could possibly explain your taking such a ridiculous risk.”

  “Huh.”

  “And that,” she announced, “is why I’ve decided to accept your proposal of marriage.”

  Some type of rare and extremely precious energy burst through him. If he could bottle it, he would be the richest man in the world, he thought. Then again, it was right there inside him, rushing through his veins, making him light-headed, creating all sorts of new sensations for him to savor. He didn’t need to sell the joy to get rich. He already owned it.

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She bent her head and brushed her mouth across his. “I think it was just as wildly romantic of me to take you in.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  She smiled. “Because even as I held the door open for you and invited you inside, I was almost certain that you were lying through your teeth.”

  A tide of heat flooded his veins. Not sexual arousal, he realized, although that was probably somewhere in the mix; something else. Something infinitely more satisfying. She’d taken him in even though she’d suspected that he had given her a line about the hotel room.

  He put his other hand into her hair and gently tightened his fingers. “Apparently, I’m not the only closet romantic here. I do love you, you know.”

  “I love you, too.” She started to kiss him and then paused, her gaze growing abruptly thoughtful.

  “What?”

  “It brings up that old problem, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s up, but it’s not that old, and I honestly don’t consider it a problem.”

  “Stop grinning like that.” She sat up slowly amid the rumpled sheets. “This is serious. I think.”

  He put both of his hands behind his own head. “I’m listening.”

  “All that talk about your little game with the hotel reservations makes me wonder just where Tyler Page stayed while he was here in Mirror Springs. Gresham said that it looked as if Gillian drove in from Denver for the day, remember?”

  “Go on.”

  “But we’ve assumed all along that Page was here in Mirror Springs. We thought he’d want to be as close to the festival as possible.”

  “Maybe we assumed wrong.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed. “Maybe we didn’t.”

  Jack sat up slowly. “What are you getting at?”

  “We all agree that Page is not good with the details of daily life. The details of a fake identity are even trickier to handle.”

  “Gillian must have taken care of that end of things for him.”

  Elizabeth tightened her hand in the sheet. “The first day I saw Hayden I asked him how he managed to get a room at the resort. He told me that he knew the general manager and had pulled a few strings. He said it very casually, more or less in passing. It’s possible that he met the manager somewhere else.”

  “High-ranking hotel personnel frequently get transferred from one property to another on a regular basis,” Jack said slowly.

  “But it’s also possible that Hayden met him right here in Mirror Springs. Which would mean that this wasn’t his first visit.”

  “It’s a popular ski resort in the winter. Hayden skis.” Jack paused. “So does Gillian.”

  “Jack, what if—”

  “Hang on.” Jack grabbed the phone off the end table. Then he rummaged in the drawer for the small Mirror Springs phone book. “We can put an end to this one way or the other with a call.”

  He found the resort number and punched it in. Hayden came on the line after several rings. He sounded half asleep and groggy.

  “How much more scotch did you drink after Elizabeth and I left?” Jack asked.

  “If you think that you can start playing big brother after all these years, forget it. Besides, I had a right. It was a rough night.”

  “I can’t argue with you there,” Jack said. “You can go back to sleep in a minute. Right after you answer a question.”

  Hayden groaned. “Just because you saved my life, don’t get the idea that you can call me up in the middle of the night anytime you feel like it. My newfound brotherly gratitude only goes so far.”

  “Hayden, pay attention here. Yo
u told Elizabeth that you got that room there at the resort because you knew the manager.”

  “Douglas Finley. Nice guy. So what?”

  “Have you stayed at the resort in the past?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.” Jack’s sense of anticipation went flat, but he caught Elizabeth’s eye and decided to push a little more. “How did you get to know Finley?”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t really know him. At least not personally. I used my ex-in-laws’ name to pull some strings with him.”

  “Finley knows Gillian’s family?”

  “Yeah. But he didn’t know about the divorce. Probably wouldn’t have given me the room if he had known about it. Can I ask where in hell this is going? I need my sleep. I got a call from Gillian’s father earlier. Ringstead’s on his way back from Zurich. A family lawyer is on his way here tonight. I’m going to have to deal with both of them tomorrow.”

  “Stick with me for a little longer,” Jack said. “Are you telling me that Gillian’s family vacations in this area?”

  “Not her immediate family. But one of her cousins has a place a few miles out of town. Gillian and I used it once or twice.”

  Jack was amazed that the phone didn’t crack in his hand. “Her cousin has a place here?”

  “Yeah. But what with the divorce and all, I’m persona non grata with the Ringsteads these days. Figured there was no point asking for the key to the cabin, so I tried my luck here at the resort instead.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  * * *

  THE HOUSE WAS INVISIBLE FROM THE ROAD, impossible to see until Jack reached the end of the long access lane and turned the corner. Elizabeth sat forward, watching as the headlights splashed across a large, sprawling structure. The windows were dark. There was no car parked in the drive.

  “If Page was staying here, he’s long gone.” Jack switched off the engine and picked up the flashlight. “But maybe we’ll find something that will tell us where he’s headed.”

  Elizabeth gave him an uneasy glance as she opened her door. “Chief Gresham is not going to be thrilled when he finds out we came here without consulting with him.”

  “What with Vicky’s car crash and Gillian’s murder, Gresham has enough on his hands at the moment. Besides, this is probably just another wild-goose chase. If we turn up anything useful, we’ll call him.”

  “Sure.” She slid out, closed the door, and buttoned her long down coat. She gave him a knowing look over the roof of the car. “Right after we set out after Page ourselves.”

  “If Page is in Europe, there’s nothing Gresham can do anyway. But there might be something we could do if we catch up with him before he figures out how to unload Soft Focus in the foreign market.”

  She shook her head as she followed him toward the house. “That’s one of the things I admire about you, Jack. You never give up.”

  “Giving up is not usually a viable strategic maneuver.” He pulled on a pair of leather gloves. “Let’s face it, finding a missing lab specimen is not a high priority for Chief Gresham. He’s after a couple of murderers. Excalibur’s stolen property is low on his list right now. We’re the only ones with a vested interest in getting that damned crystal back before the Veltran presentation.”

  “You don’t need to remind me.” She took her gloves out of the pocket of her coat and put them on. Then she hurried up the steps to the rear deck and watched Jack test the locks on the door and the nearby windows.

  “There’s a name for this,” she said.

  “Breaking and entering.” Jack continued around the corner of the deck. “Not our first time. You should be getting used to it by now.”

  “When we went through Page’s house in Seattle, we had a key and a semi-legitimate-sounding excuse. This could be a little trickier to explain.”

  “I’ll deal with it if necessary.”

  “Spoken like a real CEO.”

  “A good CEO can talk his way out of anything.”

  “Or into anything,” Elizabeth said. But she said it very quietly.

  She tried to ignore the hot-cold feeling in her hands as she trailed after Jack. He was halfway around the wide deck that encircled the big house.

  She followed him around the corner and saw that the entire front wall of both stories was a mass of floor-to-ceiling windows. Anyone standing inside would have an expansive view of the mountain. But from where she stood on the deck the dark glass appeared as an impenetrable barrier.

  Jack started toward the nearest sliding glass door. Elizabeth cast her own small flashlight around the deck. The beam of light grazed a large, professional-size stainless-steel outdoor grill, two chaise longues, a table, and a hot tub.

  “Looks like hot tubs are big here in Mirror Springs,” she said. “Everyone’s got one.”

  “After our recent experience I’ve decided I’ve got a keen interest in them myself. I’m thinking of installing one when we get home.” Jack moved to the next door.

  “You live in a condo.”

  “We could put it in at your place. How about that balcony outside your bedroom?”

  She frowned. “How do you know that there’s a deck outside my bedroom?”

  “I can see it from my front window.”

  “Not without a pair of binoculars, you can’t.”

  He did not respond to that.

  “Jack, were you spying on me during the past six months?”

  “I couldn’t get a clear view,” he assured her. “There were some bushes in the way. You know, you should probably tell your gardener to cut back some of the shrubbery on that balcony. Getting a little overgrown, don’t you think?”

  She groaned, not sure whether to be outraged or flattered. She was about to tell him where he could stick the excess shrubbery when she noticed that the lid of the outdoor grill was open. An array of cooking implements was scattered across a greasy steel counter that extended out from the side.

  “I think someone used the grill recently. Look at all the utensils and the mess on the counter. I wonder if—” She broke off, staring at the dark shape that projected around the edge of the hot tub. Her first thought was that someone had left a shoe out on the deck.

  A man’s shoe.

  Then she saw that the shoe was connected to a pant leg. “Oh, my God. Jack.”

  He crossed the deck in three long strides and halted beside her. He aimed his own light toward the side of the tub. “Damn.”

  He walked toward the edge of the small pool, never taking the beam off the shoe.

  “Please, God,” Elizabeth whispered. “Not another one.”

  She went slowly forward, wanting to look away from the shoe but unable to do so. It was as if she were under the influence of a terrible compulsion.

  She came to a halt next to the large grill, put out a hand, and gripped the counter extension to steady herself. Her fingers brushed against the handle of a long, unwashed cooking fork.

  The hot tub was uncovered, but it was not running. The motor was silent, the interior lights off. The surface of the water was still.

  Jack walked around the edge of the circular pool and aimed the flashlight at what appeared at first to be a pile of rumpled clothing.

  Elizabeth saw a thin, bony-fingered hand. Then she saw the blood that still oozed from the head wound. She was grateful that the man’s face was turned away from her. Something glinted at the edge of the light. A stylish, stainless-steel cocktail shaker lay on the deck next to a chair leg. The shaker’s lid had been removed, she noticed. The dead man must have been caught in the act of mixing himself a martini.

  “Dear heaven.” She lowered the light. The beam shined across a dark metal object on the deck. “Jack—?”

  He glanced at the gun that had apparently fallen from the man’s hand. “I see it.”

  When she glanced back at the body she noticed the wide, dark stain that had spread out from beneath the head. It could have been water that had splashed out of the uncovered hot t
ub, but she knew that it wasn’t. Her stomach lurched.

  She watched, mesmerized, as Jack crouched and felt for a pulse at the throat.

  “It’s Page, isn’t it?” she whispered.

  “Yes.” Jack stood and started to reach into the pocket of his jacket for his cell phone. “He never made it out of town.”

  “He must have shot himself after he killed Gillian. Lover’s remorse. The poor man. She truly was his femme fatale.”

  A dark figure moved out of the shadows beneath an awning. A third flashlight winked on. Elizabeth felt a scream rise in her throat. But nothing happened, because she could not seem to get her breath.

  “Not suicide, I’m afraid,” Dawson Holland said. “The stupid little bastard refused to hand over Soft Focus. He kept saying that Gillian had betrayed him and that he would never give me the crystal. He actually had the nerve to pull a gun on me. I had to kill him.”

  “Why are you still hanging around?” Jack’s voice was stunningly even. He did not rise from his crouched position near the body. “Coming on top of Gillian’s death and a missing wife, another murder is going to be a little tough to explain, isn’t it?”

  “I have no intention of sticking around long enough to explain anything to anyone.”

  “You killed Gillian,” Elizabeth whispered. “It wasn’t Tyler Page, after all.”

  “The bitch went crazy on me. Kept ranting on and on about getting revenge.” Dawson swung the flashlight beam directly into Elizabeth’s eyes.

  She staggered back as if he had used a laser. She stumbled against the grill and fumbled wildly to catch her balance. The implements on the counter clattered and clanged. A heavy pan crashed to the deck. It bounced twice and then went still. Jack never took his eyes off her, but he said nothing.

  Dawson Holland smiled and swung the light back toward Jack. “I think she’s nervous.”

  “You’re enough to make any intelligent person nervous,” Elizabeth said.

  “And you are an intelligent person, are you not? Do you know, there is something very exciting about clever women. I find them fascinating, especially when they are also beautiful. But in the end, one can never trust them. They always have their own agendas, and that makes them dangerous.”